In most of my earliest memories, I was either building or painting something, somewhere. Then there was my first visit to the zoo. I must have been two or three years old when I started using colored pens, drawing crocodiles, elephants and horses. That was almost 6 decades ago.
Life and its surprises never stopped interrupting my journey as an artist. I have witnessed many beautiful and also devastating moments. Half of my life was lived in estates and wealth. The other half as a homeless penniless loner.
Nothing I have witnessed so far had anything I really desired. There is nothing that I worship or idealize. I have never created a center for my self.
Out of all the things in Life I still haven’t gotten tired is painting pictures. It is only here where I feel like I am absolutely free. I can do whatever I want. There isn’t a thing I can do wrong. Knowing this, I use this form of freedom to the utmost of my capabilities. I paint with no shame, as if there is no tomorrow, like no one will ever see my paintings, like I will burn them after I made them. Burn them, I did. Hundreds of them on three continents and many countries I lived in. I still destroy some of my paintings because I don’t think they’re good enough, therefore don’t deserve to be seen. My life style and my paintings are alike. Both aren’t attached to anything. There is only moving forward, from one place to another, from painting to painting until there is no more of me.
Creating a painting that was genuinely loved by a viewer at first sight has always been my goal. I try everything in my power to paint images that put some kind of happiness into my heart. When I love it, I know or at least hope so, others may too.